


There is no God.

by savagemockingbird



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Erik suffers 2k19, Hero | Luminary is Named Eleven | El (Dragon Quest XI), Platonic Erik/Serena, Rab and Sylv are mentioned but don't talk, Religion talk, Sepctral Sentinel Erik, Spoilers for Erik’s backstory, That goes horribly wrong, Veronica being Veronica, Wild Side is apart of Erik and you can pry that out of my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21739093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savagemockingbird/pseuds/savagemockingbird
Summary: "No one heard him. Gods don’t exist, Erik told himself quietly one day, when he was alone on a hilltop, the moon high in the sky. They couldn’t hear him. They weren’t there."In which a discussion of faith goes horribly wrong.
Relationships: Camus | Erik & Sena | Serena
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	There is no God.

**Author's Note:**

> sooo erik's character page describes him as being slightly nihilistic... you just know i had to write about that  
> also!! spectral sentinel erik and his name are based around the "Everything, Everything; Gold, Gold" series by lazyDaysie!! i love their works a lot anyways. enjoy! :)

Erik toys with his knife, spinning it around in his fingers. The metal glimmers when he holds it up, the campfire’s light shining brightly against it. He brings it back down to his lap, polishing it blindly all over again. His eyes trail up from the knife in his lap to the people around the campfire.

Rab had already retired for the night, old bones not being able to handle walking such long distances at a time anymore. Jade is wailing against a dummy with her spear, and Erik shudders. He almost feels bad for the poor thing, inanimate or not. Eleven’s hammer bangs against whatever item he’s currently forging, and Erik welcomes the familiarity of the sound. Sylvando is busy polishing his instrument (a recorder, Erik briefly remembers him mentioning). Veronica was nose deep in an old spell book, not even bothering to look up when Sylvando blows into his instrument or Eleven hits his item a tad too hard. Serena, curiously, is nowhere to be found. Erik’s eyebrows knit with concern. Usually, the blonde was always next to her sister, playing her lyre. He gives a shrug of his shoulders, and his eyes go back to his knife.

“Good evening, Erik.”

He jumps, clutching the knife tightly as his body twists around to face the owner of the voice. Serena stands in back of him, startled slightly by his reaction. She’s clutching her lyre tightly and Erik’s shoulders relax. He breathes out a sigh.

“Don’t creep up on me like that ‘Rena,” he says softly. She mumbles out an apology, and he shifts farther on the bench. Serena plops herself next to him, dropping the lyre into her lap and stretching her arms.

“Can’t sleep?” Serena usually slept early, for the sole reason that constantly patching their wounds up ended up being exhausting.

She shakes her head gently. “Sadly not. I wanted to see what all of you were up to.”

“Nothing much going on here,” Erik mumbles, holding up his knife so that the campfire cleans against it once more. Content with how shiny it is, he sheathes it as his hip. “Something you wanted to talk about?”

Her face lights up. Erik resists the urge to smile, because seeing Serena glowing like that would put a smile on literally anyone’s face. “There is something I’ve been wanting to talk to someone about. Give me just a moment, will you?”

Erik watches her scurry back into the tent she shared with Veronica. He suddenly realizes that her lyre now lays on the log, right next to him. Curiously, he grips it carefully in both hands, brings it up so it is eye level. There are intricate carvings in the wood, symbols his brain can’t grasp. The strings are thin, and Erik briefly worries that if he plucked them, they would break.

He bristles when he hears Serena’s footsteps, and the lyre finds its place back on the log, as though it had never been touched. When he is sure that she is close enough, he turns around, smiles as though nothing had happened. She offers a gentle smile of her own in return, shifting an old book she had been holding in her hand under one arm, grabbing the lyre with the other off the log, and dropping down to sit next to Erik once more. She places the lyre down beside her, but Erik’s eyes find themselves for interested in the book she had dropped in her lap.

“What’s that thing?” It’s a harmless question, really; Erik wasn’t big on reading, barely knowing how anyways. He was sure he would never be able to comprehend whatever complicated book Serena had found on their travels.

Instead of being offended like Veronica would have been (Erik counts his blessings they ended up with only one Veronica), Serena’s eyes brighten as she hands out the book for him to hold. “It’s an old book from Arboria that Father Benedictus gave Veronica and I before we set out. It’s about Yggdrasil and Her leaves, and Her children that became Gods.”

At that, Erik’s muscles tense. He was never one for religion. When he first met the Seer, he thought of him as some crazy old lunatic who put too much belief in the higher-ups. And Erik would’ve been right, if it wasn’t for the Luminary who ended up in the cell next door, the Luminary who was currently showing off his latest creation with the forge to Jade. Sometimes Erik thinks he’s going crazy, because the Luminary and the Dark One had always been just fairy tales that everyone’s mothers read them as bedtime stories.

But Serena’s eyes glimmer as he opens the book, careful not to ruin it’s already worn out pages. The book was written in a language that Erik couldn’t comprehend, but he doesn’t bother asking because the entire situation already made him uncomfortable enough. The only thing he can really make out is different interpretations of different Gods and spirits. They were interesting to look at, Erik concluded; but his shoulders were still horribly stiff and he wished the ground would swallow him whole.

Serena begins to babble on about spirits, but Erik continues to gently flip through the book. His eyes are drawn to one specific figure. He lifts his head up, his eyes flickering from the book, then to Serena and then back down to the book.

“This one,” Erik says softly, his finger tracing out a spirit with a blue hue. “Tell me about this one.”

“Oh! That’s the spirit of the Frozen Fjörd just outside of the Arboria Highlands. The one in the Snaerfelt.” She looks pensive for a moment before she speaks again, looking at Erik in the eyes. “The people of Sniflheim know much more about this spirit than the people of Arboria though.”

 _We do_ , Erik wants to tell her. _But they’re not really there._ He clenches and unclenches his fists, breath becoming unsteady. He wanted this conversation to end, and he wanted it to end now.

“They’re not real though.” His voice comes out an octane too high and his eyebrows scrunch up slightly. Serena doesn’t seem to notice, but she frowns lightly.

Veronica suddenly finds it the right time to butt in, and Erik ponders the morality of punching a child in the face. “Don’t listen to him Serena. Criminals don’t really know much about worshipping and spirits anyways.”

Any response Erik had on his tongue dies immediately. Serena gasps quietly next to him. “Veronica, don’t say such things!”

“What? I hardly believe he had time to do any reading while on the run or in jail,” she snaps back. “I think it’s a miracle he knows how to read at all.”

Erik doesn’t respond. Everything is drowned out, and fuzzy, and it _hurts._

He can still remember Mia complaining as they docked in Sniflheim, Father waiting for them on the docks. Taken into the church for Sunday ceremony, praying to Gods and spirits whose names Erik can’t remember. Praying for his return. Hoping one day they would be blessed enough to live in the same time period as _him._

Images of her. Images of Mia replay in his head, how her small, fragile body had been encased in gold. How she cried out for him, _begging_ for Erik to help. How he was rendered powerless against whatever curse he had given her. Had fallen to the ground, crying, screaming, _praying_ that She or whatever God was out there would help him, would help Mia.

No one heard him. _Gods don’t exist,_ Erik told himself quietly one day, when he was alone on a hilltop, the moon high in the sky. They couldn’t hear him. They weren’t there.

He’s grounded by Serena, who sets a gentle hand on his shoulder. He whirls around, an almost predatory look in his eyes. Serena jumps, startled, and Erik breathes out shakily.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry ‘Rena.”

“It’s alright.” Her hand is still gripping his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to make you react in such a way.”

“Stop being so _childish,_ Erik,” Veronica tuts. “The Gods won’t be very happy with you, you know.”

The beast in Erik rattles against its cage, begging to be let loose. He lets out a sigh, head turning to look at Veronica.

“They don’t exist, Vronn,” he says. “Not like they can judge me for anything if they’re _not real._ ”

“Have a little more faith would you? After all, you’re travelling with _Her_ leaf you know.” She motions to the Luminary, who’s still hammering away on the forge. “What, you don’t believe in Her either?”

The beast breaks its bonds, and Erik resists the urge to vomit. He stands urgently, shrugging Serena’s hand off his shoulder. She looks startled, but he refuses to feel bad about anything anymore.

“I don’t, frankly.” His tone is poisonous, almost as if he didn’t even need to use his knife to stab the horrified girl in front of him. “All that shit you guys learn back in Arboria isn’t _true._ Gods don’t fucking exist, and they certainly aren’t gonna fucking _help us._ ”

The camp goes silent. Eleven’s head raises slowly, and his body follows suit. He walks over to Erik, who’s entire figure is trembling. His face is ghostly pale, and Eleven’s brows furrow in concern.

“Erik, c’mon, just sit back down for a bit and then we’ll go rest up.” His hand reaches up to grab one of Erik’s shoulders but the thief slaps it away before it could make contact.

“Don’t feel like it. ‘M gonna head out for a little walk.” Erik spins on his heel, and Eleven’s feet scurry across the ground in an attempt to reach him.

“Erik-“

“Don’t bother following,” he calls out from over his shoulder. He keeps walking and Eleven watches until he’s out of sight.

“El,” Jade calls out. The boy turns. “We should stay up to make sure he comes back.”

From her spot on the log, Serena balls her hands up into fists, stares down at the book in her lap. Tears pool in her eyes, and she bites down on her lip. “I’m sorry Eleven I just thought- I just wanted to share with someone, and I thought he would’ve been interested.”

“Stop crying, Serena,” Veronica calls out. “It’s Erik. He’ll be back in a bit, and if he isn’t, we know he’ll be there in the morning.” Her face betrays her tone, cool and composed, though her voice breaks slightly. “I guess I shouldn’t have pushed so much.”

“Both of you, it’s ok. Just make sure to rest up. We’ve got another big day ahead of us tomorrow,” Eleven says softly.

Erik returns the next morning, refusing to speak of what happened the night prior. Nobody questions him. They simply move onto their next goal, as though the talk of Gods and spirits and faith had never happened.

Erik would like to keep it that way.

***

The Gyldenhall is huge and golden and _perfect_ in his eyes. He sits on a matching throne of gold, Mia-no, Gyldygga-at his side. Everything is perfect.

The Gods, if they existed, would crumble at his feet. All would fall to Erik-to the Gullwolf-ruler in a land of gold and perfection.

But the Gods didn’t exist. _She_ was gone, and Her children are cowards. And so he sits, waiting for Her leaf to show, waiting to be able to tear him apart with his own claws.

The Gods never listened. The Gods never helped.

Why would they listen to his screams of agony as Erik tore him to pieces?


End file.
